


Come Tuck Me In

by orphan_account



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: 3xR, AU, F/M, Ficlet, Tumblr photo prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-22
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-28 08:26:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6322198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a common complaint. Relena waved it off every time. So many of their belongings told a story about the two of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Tuck Me In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ClaraxBarton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/gifts).



The worst of the boxes could wait, or they _would_ wait, if Relena wasn't so Type A. The cardboard crate marked _Kitchen stuff and utensils_ yawned open from the IKEA dining table surrounded by a pile of crumpled newspaper and discarded bubble wrap. It mocked her, defying the fatigue in her limbs and the indecently early start she had that morning.

They'd unpacked the bedroom first once the boys finished bringing up the bulky furniture, grumbling with each trip up and down about the narrow stairwell and the loose floorboard that managed to trip them every other time. The box of flatware rattled ominously when Duo misjudged the stair landing, and he gave Relena a long-suffering look when she hissed at him to be careful. Relena's shoulders burned now, too long hunched over boxes, ripping off strips of packing tape from the dispensing gun and meticulously rolling breakables amidst Trowa's rumblings of "When did we get so much stuff?"

It was a common complaint. Relena waved it off every time. So many of their belongings told a story about the two of them. Acid-free boxes of photos that never made it into scrapbooks. Broadway show ticket stubs tucked into the slat of the mirror over the bureau. More candles and bubble bath gift sets than they would ever have the chance to use, as though her friends foresaw a future between the two of them filled with dark, rainy nights. Unframed art prints rolled in tubes, waiting to give the overpriced, cramped space “character.”

Relena and Trowa would give it a soul.

She yelped, startled from her musings at the feel of his calloused fingers brushing her hair from her nape, baring it to the sleepy brush of his lips. “Sorry,” he murmured, and she relaxed against him, melting into his bulk when his arms coiled around her waist. “It can wait. Come to bed.”

“I don’t want to wake up to this,” she argued, but he felt lax and warm, fresh from the tangle of covers. He’d escaped to bed once Duo and Heero had left and the last of the pizza boxes had been cleared away. She waved toward the mess. Trowa hummed in agreement, but he gently, persuasively rocked her where she stood, slowly backing them away from the counter. His fair skin glowed in the faint light from the oven range. The apartment was dark, her attempt at letting him rest while she continued to putter.

“I’ll help you tomorrow,” he murmured.

“Famous last words.”

“Promise.” And there it was; his hardened flesh stirred against her rump. He was fully awake.

“You were passed out cold a few minutes ago,” she accused. “Snoring like a buzz saw.” But her body craved his caress, arching back into it when he tasted the spot behind her ear.

“Tuck me back in.” 

“I want to be able to make…breakfast…”

Her breath shuddered up from her throat on a moan.

“Damn it, Trowa.”

 

The boxes could wait.


End file.
